


Like He Owns the Place

by goobzoop



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series)
Genre: But they’re both into it your honor I swear, M/M, Mentions of karate kid movie, Slurs, Something something the dojo floor, Sparring, dubcon, gay slurs, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:01:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29639916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goobzoop/pseuds/goobzoop
Summary: Daniel invites Johnny over to his dojo for a bit of sparring after thirty years of not seeing each each other. Can Daniel still beat him after all that time or have the tables finally turned?
Relationships: Daniel LaRusso/Johnny Lawrence
Comments: 17
Kudos: 76





	Like He Owns the Place

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks thanks to [cueonego](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cueonego/pseuds/cueonego) for beta’ing this! 🐍

Inviting Johnny into his Dojo after thirty years is a mistake and Daniel knows it the moment he walks in with his idiotic sleeveless black gi and a grin just as cocky at the day he slammed an elbow into the back of his knee. Nothing ever seems to get to Johnny; not even the lack of the “All Valley Champ” title behind his name.   
  


Johnny strides in like he owns the place. He’s looking for a challenge. Daniel can see it in his eyes, the way he chucks off his shoes and lands them haphazard in the corner. 

Daniel isn’t mad, regardless of how rude Johnny can be. He’s just like that, always has been.

Or afraid, for that matter. Despite the way Johnny is circling him, raking his eyes over him like a predator about to pounce on wounded prey, he was the one who scored the tournament winning point by delivering a devastating kick to his face, not Johnny.   
  


_Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have your attention please! Welcome to the final match of the All Valley Karate Tournament!_

He was the one that took the trophy. It was his arms that Ali ran into. 

Johnny silently puts up his hands, crouched low, continuing to circle him around the floor. 

_Defending Champion Johnny Lawrence of Cobra Kai, All Valley Champ Two-Time winner versus Danial LaRusso of Miyagi-Do Dojo!_

Johnny cracks his neck side to side. It sounds out like firecrackers in the silence of the room.

_3 points wins! Face your opponent and bow!_

Daniel puts up his hands. He’s ready. He’s always been ready. He can take down Johnny Lawrence with an arm tied behind his back. He locks eyes with him and bows- Otagai-ni-Rei- bow to each other; it’s sacred. 

Johnny doesn’t bow. 

_Ready? Fight!_

The air is hot and charged between them. 

Johnny strikes first; Daniel wouldn’t expect anything less. 

He bolts across the floor, delivers a swift kick to his shoulder, knocks him off course. Daniel staggers to his side; Johnny is stronger than he remembers. A second blow hits him hard just above the waist and he careens his body to the side, missing the next jab directed at his jaw. 

Johnny teeters forward on the misdirected momentum. Daniel whips his weight around, one foot planted squarely on the floor, the other flying fast for a roundhouse kick that collides with Johnny’s chest. 

_New contestant LaRusso is the one to beat this year! With only six months of training with private instructor Miyagi under his belt, he is blowing the competition out of the water! Let’s see how Current_ _Two-Time Champ Lawrence holds his weight during this final match._

Johnny’s eyes burn red like fire as he’s huffing but there’s no trace of injury; it’s as if his kick barely touched him. Daniel can certainly feel it in the throb of his heel, though. Sparring with Johnny always left him hurting in a way he never seemed to mind. 

Johnny springs to the right. He wastes no time, lunges forward again, sends the bottom of his fist straight into Daniel’s stomach, knocks the breath out of him. Another fist hits Daniel in the same spot; he still can’t breathe. He’s not as young as he used to be, can’t bounce back quite as quick.

Johnny is as limber as ever. 

Daniel hops back, slides his arm across his stomach and musters the strength to keep going. He’s not about to back down from a fight, least of all a fight with the one man that’s been haunting him for the past thirty years. 

_And there he goes! Ouch! That must hurt for Lawrence. LaRusso can really hold his own!_

He steals away, bounces on his feet, gathers himself up and he’s ready to strike. He watches the movement of Johnny’s body, the way his chest sways from side to side, and his arms- the way they tense up, ready to dart out and block. He takes the best opportunity he has and lands a successful front snap kick to his chest, then a quick elbow strike when he darts in close. 

He’s about to continue through into a rising elbow jab when Johnny takes him by surprise and knocks his legs out from under him. It sends him tumbling, _hard_ , to the floor in a crash. There’s a sharp pain in his stomach, then his chest, his jaw. He feels Johnny’s hands all over him. 

He feels Johnny’s weight on top of him. He’s on his back and the crush of Johnny’s is knee pressing sharp into his thigh, the bruising grip on his shoulder- the all encompassing presence of him hovering not even two inches above him. His chest feels hot.

He sees the cocky grin. Johnny thinks he’s got him. He doesn’t. 

_2-1, LaRusso! Wait- and he’s down! Lawrence side swiped LaRusso to the mat, folks! Oh, look at that dropping elbow strike, right to the knee!_

He wraps his legs around Johnny’s waist and uses the force of his chest to drag him onto his side. Only thing is, Johnny doesn’t budge. Johnny is bigger. He’s stronger.

Daniel is trapped. 

_That’s a warning, Lawrence, for illegal contact to the knee, watch it! Oh, LaRusso is down again! It looks like the match is coming to a close, folks, our two-time champion will be taking home the cup for the third year in a row!_

He knew it was a mistake from the moment that Johnny walked in his dojo and he knows it now, too. All he can feel is Johnny, all he can see is Johnny. All he can smell is the salty, musky scent of Johnny after a grueling workout that he wishes he didn’t recognize as well as he did. 

He pushes hard against his forearm, but he’s holding firm, so he kicks against his thigh but it’s no use. 

_Hold on! Look at that! LaRusso is up! He’s going to finish the match! It’s 2-2! Fight!_

Daniel looks up, sees that smirk yet again. He’s trying to manage his way out from under Johnny’s hold, but it’s not like it was back then, not anymore. Johnny is stronger. He’s got technique, he’s been training and it shows. He feels his breath taken away. 

_Oh! And LaRusso swan-kicks Lawrence! He’s down! That’s it! 3-2 for LaRusso! We have a New All State Valley Campion!_

It’s time for him to pull something out of the bag, but he doesn't have anything left. 

All he knows is black and blonde towering over him. Thick, coiled muscles pinning him. Wild blue eyes burning into him. He’s not Champion anymore. He can’t move. 

“How’s it feel, LaRusso?” Johnny says, arrogant prick. 

Daniel isn’t much better these days in terms of childish retorts. “To be second in line? I’m not sure.”

That wasn’t the right answer; Johnny uses his thighs and a hand to the shoulder to propel him over onto his stomach, and now he’s got him pressing down on his back. 

“Let me up,” LaRusso groans. “I get it. Point for you. Get off and we’ll square up again.”

There’s a snicker above him. “No, I don’t think so, Champ.” 

Daniel scoffs and wiggles his arms under him to the point where he almost gets up on his elbows. “Should've known you wouldn’t play by the rules without a ref to keep you in line. Classic Cobra Kai.” 

Johnny fists a hand on the back of his head and slams it down to the mat; his arms fold under him and he’s done. “Yeah, you should have,” Johnny rasps, leaning down close to his ear, enough that Daniel can feel the sticky hotness of his breath, and it sends shivers down his spine. 

“You shouldn’t be proud to break the rules-” Daniel groans. Johnny is pushing his full weight on him now and it’s getting difficult to breathe. He feels like a kid again, helpless and buckling under the threat of Johnny Lawerence. He’s face first in the sand at the beach with a black eye. His heart starts pounding against the dojo mat. 

“I don’t give a shit about the rules,” Johnny says. “All I care about is kicking the fucking shit out of you.” He tightens his grip in his hair and yanks his hand to the side so he can see his eyes. “All-State Champ, my ass. You were fucking lucky.”

Okay, so maybe it _did_ get to him. 

“I won that tournament fair and square,” he defends himself. 

Things feel tense in the air like something is about to snap in half- set a spark, ignite a flame, throw the whole place up in deadly fire. 

“That crane-kick was illegal,” Johnny hisses. A hand presses down on his lower back. Completely paralyzed. 

“Your elbow strike was illegal! You only did that because you were afraid of me. You had to injure me because you couldn’t beat me otherwise.” He tries to shimmy his shoulders, but Johnny doubles down on his weight. “And guess what? Even with one leg, I still whooped your ass.”

“Whooped my ass?” Johnny laughs. “What are you still in ‘84?” 

“Please, I’m not the one who drives a Pontiac Firebird and can’t even figure out Facebook.” 

Johnny’s face sours, he can only see it with one eye with his face still pressed into the mat. 

“One leg or not, Champion or not, you’re not going to beat me this time, LaRusso. I’ve got you right where I want you. You can’t do a thing.”

“Yes, I can,” he says, but it’s a lie and Johnny knows it. 

“Go ahead, then. Get up.” 

Daniel squirms half-heartedly, he’s not going anywhere and now he’s just making a fool out of himself. Johnny even drops down so he’s chest to back with him and lets him feel his full weight just to make a show of it. 

Daniel can feel it, alright. He can feel the way his lungs are constricted and his hip bones are pressing painfully into the mat. He can feel Johnny’s arms as they snake under his armpits and restrain him even further. He can feel Johnny’s thighs, so much bigger than his own that it’s laughable, kicking his apart and holding them open with the force of a stone wall. 

Fuck, he can feel _other_ parts of Johnny too, pressing right up against his ass. Also with the force of a stone wall. 

“Stop, Johnny,” he gasps. 

Johnny doesn’t stop. Again, his breath is hot on his ear. “Giving up already?” 

He groans. “No.” 

It’s getting even more difficult to keep himself together; Karate was never like _this._ Not like being forced into submission in the most demeaning way possible. Especially not by your long-standing idiot rival who doesn’t know the first thing about _real_ karate. 

_This_ is a completely different game, but what it is, he isn’t sure. 

Then he feels Johnny grind down on him, hears the noise that comes after, and he knows. 

He finally acknowledges the hard-on he’s sporting that’s being squished between himself and the mat, the one he was trying desperately to forget. 

He makes a noise of his own, knows that Johnny hears it. Feels embarrassed, feels ashamed, feels like he’s lost, and maybe he has. 

Johnny grinds down again, this time harder. He tightens his arms and forces Daniel’s shoulders back even farther, debilitates all use of his upper body. 

“Fucking cheeky little shit. You always have been, LaRusso.” He bites the back of Daniel’s neck, and Daniel lets out a pained cry. “Someone’s finally going to put you in your place.” 

“Come on, Johnny, that’s not—” he says. Johnny cuts him off with a hand over his mouth and everything else that comes out is muffled nonsense. 

“It’s a wonder someone as small and weak as you got as far as you did.” He lets go with one arm and snakes it down to his ass and squeezes it tight. Daniel moans into his hand; it vibrates wet and hot. 

“Wirey fucking twink, always giving me those eyes. Yeah, I saw the way you looked at me, LaRusso, you fairy.”

Daniel wants to deny it, wants to argue about his lean muscles and hidden strength, or the absolute lie that he used to give him eyes- because he _didn’t-_ but how could he with a hand clamped over his mouth and no room do anything? It sort of proves Johnny’s point, he thinks, he can’t move enough to dispute it. And come to think of it, _was_ he giving Johnny eyes? 

Looking at Johnny is and was the same as looking at anyone else. Except, of course, for the burning hatred, the resentment, and the way his chest always felt tight like he’s going to suffocate. 

He certianly doens’t give him eyes when he’s dressed in his sleeveless black gi; the way his biceps stand out, toned hard with muscle, is stupid and arrogant, just the same as his forearms, and his chest, the way it drips with sweat halfway though a match. 

Exactly as he's doing right now, sweating, hot and flushed, overtop of him, smelling like sweat and nostalgia. Fucking _Johnny._

He doesn’t have a comeback. 

He opens his mouth to say something anyway, and Johnny plunges two fingers right inside. Fuck, he could taste his sweat. 

Daniel doesn’t even try to bite, to cough, to sputter and spit them out, no. He closes his lips around them and starts sucking like he was trained to do it. 

“Fuck, LaRusso...” Johnny groans. Sounds like he’s in awe, if Daniel didn’t know any better. 

Johnny’s hand dives right down his pants in the next second, grabbing his ass skin-on-skin. He whimpers around the fingers in his mouth. 

“Holy shit,” Johnny says. “Fucking look at you. Always knew you’d want to take it like a whore.” 

Daniel shuts his eyes and moans, slides his tongue around Johnny’s fingers and swallows. With his thighs still spread wide apart and forced to stay that way, he feels incredibly vulnerable, not to mention Johnny’s hand exploring his bare ass, or the way he’s yanking his pants down to his knees and leaving him even more vulnerable than ever. 

“All that defense, balance, bullshit. Where’s your defense now, huh? All I see is a loser about to get railed.” He slides his fingers out of Daniel’s mouth and plunges them up his ass without warning. He cries out, jerks against his hold. 

“Oh, god!” 

“Just you wait, LaRusso. You haven't felt anything yet.” He snickers, brings his hand back up and says, “Spit.” 

Daniel doesn’t bother to protest, just does it. He knows where it’s going, knows what it’s for, and he does it. He’s not running this show. Johnny is, and he’ll do what he says. 

“You’re going to love this.” 

He’s not sure about that, really, doesn’t know how much of _Johnny_ he can take, and not just the size of him, but the intensity and endless energy that he emits. Getting fucked by Johnny Lawrence, he thinks, is going to be a hell of a test in endurance. 

Like anything he does, Johnny strikes hard. Daniel feels his cock press inside him in one swift thrust, all the way in until he feels his rough pubic hair rubbing up against him. It’s wet and coarse and it smells like sex already. 

He doesn’t bother going slow. Daniel’s ass is getting pounded, worked hard from the moment they begin. One of his arms is still subduing Daniel’s upper body and the other is gripping his hips, using the momentum of every thrust to slam his ass back on his cock again.

“J-Jesus-” Daniel sputters. He’s never felt less in control- he _hates_ not feeling in control. 

He doesn’t hate this as much as he would have thought. 

Johnny is in control and he’s doing a damn fine job with the reins, how about that? 

Daniel lets out cry after cry, in tune with Johnny’s jackhammer pace. He can barely keep it together. He manages to arch his back and reposition the angle just a tiny bit, but it feels like a monumental win. It feels even more like a monumental win when Johnny slams in and it hits something white-hot, searing, blinding, and utterly pleasurable. 

He loses all control he has left, crumples like his arms and legs are jelly, folds like a house of cards. 

Johnny’s eyes are wild, Daniel can see them through a haze of flurry and motion as he’s flipped over on his back and getting stuck again with cock. 

“J-Johnny—” he whimpers. 

“Nothing to say for once?” He snickers. 

Daniel wants to say something, prove him wrong, but he’s right. He’s absolutely speechless, feels like all he can do is gasp and moan. 

Johnny sits up on his knees and grabs his hips, slides him closer, grips with hands that are determined to leave a bruise. He takes one leg and hoists it up over his shoulder with a grin. Daniel knows exactly what he’s thinking as he does it and he blushes red hot with embarrassment. He can remember the last time that he had his leg craned up like this in front Johnny Lawrence, and as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, the current moment feels a _whole_ lot better. 

Although he wouldn’t hold back a nice kick to the face if he were in any condition to be doing so, he’s never past that. 

Johnny rams into him hard and fast. He fucks like a Cobra Kai, or at least what Daniel imagaines one would fuck like- not that he’s thought about it before. 

Just as Daniel thinks he can’t take it anymore with Johnny’s unsuprisingly above average cock filling him up so full he thinks he might burst, his cock is being stroked in the same no-mercy fashion. He wants to scream. 

Sounds of wet fucking are filling up his serene little dojo, making mockery of it; slapping, grunting, moaning. 

He’s full to the brim and being used Cobra Kai style by the very man that drives him mad, and everything is convalescing together: blonde hair, the stench of sweat and sex, painful fingers digging into his hips, the after taste of Johny’s fingers on his tongue, the deep relentless ache of cock pounding him, blue eyes watching his desperately, those biceps tensed hard under that stupid black gi, and pornographic grunting in the voice he hates the most. 

“I’m going to cum, Johnny, Fuck,” he says. 

Johnny speeds up and he comes all over his stomach, over Johnny's hand, and Johnny shoves that hand right back in his mouth to make him taste his own cum. Daniel moans despite himself, tastes the salty bitter sting of himself, watches Johnny the entire time, doesn’t think he can take his eyes off him if he tries. 

“Ah, Daniel, shit.” Johnny closes his eyes and pumps in hard, twice, before stilling and gripping his hips so hard that he yelps in pain. If there weren't bruises before, there are now. 

When Daniel looks up, Johnny has his eyes open again, and the look on his face is so disarming that Daniel feels a flutter in his chest; the cocky grin that has been on his face all evening has made way for something much more sincere and it’s so sweet it’s almost unreal.

Daniel could get used to that look if he let himself. 

“So, how’s it feel, Champ?” Johnny clears his throat. 

Daniel finally moves on his own violation for the first time in over an hour, sitting up on his elbows. He could say a lot of things that he feels- bruises, pinched skin, a dull ache, spit dried on his chin, overstimulation of his cock, cum smeared on his chest, hell, even cum dripping out of his ass.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Daniel says instead, and scoffs. “ _Champ_.” 

And then there’s that grin again, cocky and arrogant. 

Johnny gets up and doesn’t offer Daniel a hand. It feels like a defeat, but somehow Daniel can’t bring himself to mind. He doesn’t mind the way Johnny hasn’t changed a bit, the way he disrespects him so thoroughly, the way he takes what he wants with no hesitation. Strike first. Daniel shudders. 

Johnny slips on his shoes and leaves without a glance back. Johnny may act like he owns the place, but he fucks like he owns _him._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
